


Justify

by Pannathian



Category: The Underland Chronicles - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Other, and its a deep, dark and unloving territoty, help me im falling back to my childhood faves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5741776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pannathian/pseuds/Pannathian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't seem to keep himself in check anymore, could he? And that seemed funny to about everyone but him.</p><p>(Idk exactly what book this would even take place in, but he's just practicing his sword skillz. Mareth is a good bro.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justify

Deep breath, he thought. The glimmer of his blade perfected his streamlined position, eyes fixed on a non-existent point, focusing his mental energy. Calm. Calm and controlled. He could do calm and controlled. What was calm?  
Hmm...  
Water was calm? No, not the Waterway... Not calm at all.  
The lake from summer camp? No, no, that just made him emotionally frustrated.  
Dew on the moss under his feet? Okay, he could work with that. Dew.  
Be like dew, Gregor, he told himself. Be like dew and settle- move only when moved.

So he did that. For a long time. He stood in the middle of the arena, which was empty and dim, and held his blade firmly in position, eyes closed. He focused on emptying his thoughts, letting himself settle, trying to find something to _move_ him. Some feeling, emotion, that could urge his blade to move the way he knew it could- the way Luxa and Mareth's did.   
Deep breath.

His eyes snapped open, and a feeling in his gut seemed to travel from his hips up to his ribs and into his lungs. He exhaled hard and hot, tensing as he pulled his blade back sharply.

 _Move_.

Move with purpose, Mareth echoed. Move like you mean it, Luxa droned. Move because you want to, not just because you need to, he told himself. 

His blade swung back forward, straight and fluid, torso twisting in sync.

Move quickly and efficiently, Ripred most likely. Move because it's what you want, Aries repeated Gregor's own sentiment.

Because he wanted to.

The blade cut up sharply, a soft whirr of cool, cavern air splitting. His feet skipped forward and he cut downwards.

 _But_...

It weakened, and the hilt and blade began to feel uneven.

 _But_ , Gregor didn't _want_ to do anything.

The sword clattered to the moss covered rock, pinging out and echoing off the seats.

He glared at it and ran a hand through his tangled, too long hair.   
This was his issue. Gregor didn't _want_ it enough. He didn't want to put this sword- this _thing_ \- into anything or anyone. Sure, Luxa and Mareth and Solovet could all use a blade to behead a rat in seconds- Ripred would just use his teeth. And sure, they would all tell him the same things over and over.   
Keep your shoulders straight. Elbows in tight. Eyes focused on the attackers blade and feet. Stance wide.  
But regardless of how fancy he could dance between blows, he still didn't want it. The blade wasn't _a part of him_ , and he was pretty sure he didn't even want it to be.

He sat down on the moss and rubbed at the skin right above his brow, scratched at a bit of caked dirt that had probably been there all day and nobody mentioned. What did he want? Why was he doing this? Trying to convince himself that somehow, if he wanted it enough, he'd be able to kill something. That's all swords were for anyways. No matter how often you could spar with friends or teachers, or how much fruit you slice mid-air, or dye-filled balloons, that's all swords were. For death. 

"Overlander." 

The low, warm voice of Mareth shocked him, making him turn to see the soldier approach calmly, arms folded behind his back, face gentle and curious.  
"You were doing quite well there for a few moments. Good form." He complimented, and stopped next to Gregor and sat, leaning back on his hands. "However, it is quite late. Did you tuck Boots in?"

"Yeah... She was pretty tired after running around the kitchen after dinner. I still don't know how you all tell what time it is- all I know is I feel a bit tired." Gregor admitted, inspecting his grubby nails, picking some ash and dirt out from underneath them.

"Something troubles you- that is why you are out here, yes?" He probed, and Gregor gave a sigh. He may be a bit stoic at times, but Mareth was stupidly good at figuring out people's feelings. Or maybe Gregor was just super obvious, and everyone knew when he was upset.

"Yeah, it's just..." Gregor turned to his friend, frowning in mild desperation," You, and Luxa, and Vikus, and Ripred have all given me advice on how to fight. Both with and without a sword, and yet- dude... I just... I can't bring myself to do it." He admitted pathetically, looking away from Mareth and to the glittering metal.

"Do... What? Use the right positions?"

"No- like... It's a sword, Mareth. What is a swords purpose?" Gregor, looked back at him, face hardening slightly.

"Ah... To defend." He stated firmly.

"No! Mareth- a sword is used to kill! It's for murder- just... Just because you do it to stop someone from doing something you think is, like, bad, doesn't make it less of what it is!" He exclaimed exasperatedly, "I can't bring myself to accept that! To want it! To think that for a second I could wield power like that and not abuse it!" 

Mareth was quiet while Gregor briefly vented, listening carefully. It took a few moments of quiet thoughts, after, from both of them, to speak again.

"That bothers you?" Mareth asked evenly.

"Yes!" Gregor snorted, angry.

"Why?"

"Wh- What on earth do you mean WHY? Mareth- it's murder!"

"Gregor, is a spider killing a fly murder?" Mareth's voice stayed even.

Gregor looked back at Mareth, confused but still frustrated, "Well... I guess not."

"Then would killing out of necessity be murder?" 

"Mareth- we aren't spiders, and other's are not flies." Gregor groaned and rubbed his head. Mareth laughed softly.

"No, I suppose we are not. However, life, Gregor, repeats itself. We should not think ourselves above the rest of life simply because we can forge iron and create fire from nothing." Gregor looked back to Mareth, who stared at the soft glow of the city over the arena walls. "That is not to say, of course, that we should kill just because we have the ability to do so, but... It is to say- why is it that you value those who threaten you, or us, in this way? When they do not value you in return?"

Gregor was quiet again. Why did he value them? Why did he value the rats, or spiders, or crawlers? It was true, he did know many who have tried to kill him, or hurt him. Obviously, the rats hated him, and the spiders tried to turn him into Jello, and the crawlers, when he'd first fallen down, had barely considered bargaining his life. But...

"I don't know... Why wouldn't I? Someone loves them, right? They go home to someone or something, don't they? Don't they joke and feel fear, or have friends they hope to see at the end of the day? Maybe they just do bad things because they want to keep that, and... They think we're in the way." Gregor tried to verbalize himself, but he just felt sappy. Mareth didn't laugh this time.

"This is true. There are many who go into battle because they are defending. Many who do it because they want to go home, or find a home. Many who die because they were doing what they thought was right." Mareth agreed softly. "But... The world does not work this way, Gregor. Your empathy makes it hard to see a bigger picture."

Mareth leaned forward and ruffled Gregors hair, smirking when it got caught in a knot and had to yank it to get it out, much to Gregor's discomfort.

"That is not bad, though. You do not see everything down here like I, or Luxa, or Ripred does. You see life as personal, and detailed. You project your experiences onto others to make them easier to understand; easier to justify. You are simply looking for answers, Gregor, and that can confuse you."

"So... I should just stop asking questions?" Gregor narrowed his eyes, earning another hearty laugh.

"No. Never stop asking questions Gregor. I will be honest and say this; I know not, myself, why we should value ourselves over others, or why our reasons for fighting are more just than theirs. Life is a cycle of selfishness, want, and hope. People are silly and hard to understand, and you are the silliest and most difficult to understand person I have ever met." Mareth grinned, and Gregor scowled.

"Thanks, that's real flattering, man."

"I say it only because it is true. You have taught me one thing, Gregor, and that is that everyone is not only different, but also alive. I do not know yet what to do with this information you unknowingly bestowed upon me, but I know it is important somehow. It is also worrisome that if you have know this much longer than I, and yet still do not know how to handle it, I may not either for quite some time." The man admitted awkwardly. It was quite strange to see Mareth being so talkative about this sort of thing, and Gregor wondered if perhaps he'd had something to drink before coming out.

"Then... What should I do? If I can't make myself want to fight, then how can I be of any use?"

Mareth tapped his fingers on the ground, thinking for a few moments.

"You are... A very good speaker. Albeit, only when it does not matter, and only after you have had some thought. But, still, you are introspected and intraspective in ways I, and even Vikus, are not. Perhaps you do not need to 'want' to fight. Perhaps your drive to fight needs to come from somewhere else. Rather than search for a justification for fighting, search for a reason not to. Avoid fighting unless you cannot think of a reason otherwise. Until that point, stall or speak. You are not inept or lesser because you do not wish to fight, and cannot find your logic to. Fight only in your last second."

Gregor stared at the arena walls. Fight only in his last second.

He could do that, he guessed.


End file.
